


Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang

by owlaholic68



Series: 1950's College Gay Time [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: 1950s Slang, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon Lesbian Character, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mild Language, Period-Typical Racism, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: 1958. Julie Farkas, pre-med student, meets a mysterious greaser girl. Their romance includes every cliche in the book, from shared milkshakes to a first kiss under the stars.Alternative title: Veronica punches her way out of a situation and into Julie's heart.





	1. Chapter 1

The sprawling campus had long since become familiar to upperclassman Julie Farkas. The University of Las Vegas, on the south side of town, was a prestigious institution that could afford the best facilities. Most of its students were hardworking, dedicated, and studious. Some of them, however…

Julie jumps to the side of the sidewalk, clutching her bookbag against her chest as a dozen sleek red motorcycles fly past. Her pastel blue skirt flaps around her knees. She scowls at the riders, decked out in matching leather jackets with a crown emblem on the back. _A bunch of hooligans,_ she thinks, continuing down the sidewalk towards the Science Building, _greaser guys like that just cause trouble._

The Science Building is a state-of-the-art facility, built just two years earlier. Mid-afternoon on a Saturday, the courtyard in front of it is deserted and silent. No ‘cool’ kid would be caught dead here outside of class hours, but Julie had always considered herself kind of a square. In order to fit two minors into her pre-med program, she had to sign up for weekend classes. _It’s a small price to pay to get to follow my dreams,_ she muses, pausing with her hand in front the door, frowning. _What was that noise?_

She turns her head, hearing another shout from the side of the building. Then there’s the sound of something hitting the ground, and a harsh laugh. All common sense drowned out by determination to do the right thing, Julie rushes around the building, skidding to a stop in the mouth of an alleyway.

“Hey!” she shouts. Two tall boys in beat-up leather jackets loom over a smaller guy. They turn at her shout. Julie recognizes the small guy as Jerry, a freshman in her program. Rumor had it that he had recently quit the Khans biker gang. Jerry’s bookbag was on the ground, papers and notebooks spilling out of it.

“Beat it, girl!” One of the guys yells back.

Julie draws herself up to her full 5’9” height, knowing she looks even taller with her unusually tall hair. She points at him. “Leave him alone!”

The other guy laughs and takes a step towards her. “Or what, baby?” He rolls up the sleeve of his jacket.

Julie falters, shoulders slumping. _Or what? I’m not going to fight him._ “Or-or,” she stutters, “just leave him alone!”

“ _Just leave him alone! O-oh!_ ” he mocks, one hand on his cheek. “She’s a real hoot, eh Clyde?”

The other guy shoves Julie hard in the shoulder. “Heh, yeah, I-”

The roar of an engine cuts him off. A gray motorcycle, dented in a few places, skids to stop behind Julie, whipping up dust and dirt. She squeezes her eyes shut and hunches in on herself.

“What’s up?” a woman calls out, shutting off the deafening engine. Julie looks up in time to see her slide a leg over the seat. She tears her eyes away from the _very_ tight capris this mysterious woman is wearing, watching as she removes a gray helmet and shakes out her short hair.  

“Another stupid girl?” the man puts a hand on his hip. “You come to wimp out on us, too?”

The woman ignores the two guys, putting a hand on Julie’s shoulder. This close, the height difference is obvious: she’s almost half a foot shorter than Julie.

“These boys botherin’ you, doll? You need me to give ‘em a pounding?”

Julie stares down at her, transfixed by her twinkling brown eyes. _She’s kind of cute, in a beatnik sort of way._ “Uh…”

“Hah! You, give us a beatdown?” One of the guys cackles.

The woman just raises an eyebrow at him. “Tumble with a couple of candy-asses like you two? It’s almost not even worth my time.” She steps in front of Julie, putting her hands on her hips. An open invitation to fight.

And the boys take it. One swings at her, clumsily and over-confident. She dodges and stays close, hitting him square in the jaw. Julie gasps and puts a hand over her mouth when the second boy stumbles back spitting blood. He clenches his fists, but thinks better of rushing in again.

“Let’s beat it, Bill,” he tugs the other boy back. “This gal’s real kookie.” The two guys beat a hasty retreat.

“Thanks,” Julie says. The woman turns and wipes her hands on her pants. She’s wearing a dark gray jacket.

“No problem. Name’s Veronica.” She shyly grins and gives Julie a very obvious once-over.

“Julie.” Inwardly, her eyebrows raise. _Cute and bent? Luck must be on my side today._

“Well,” Veronica straddles her motorcycle, “see you later, doll. Stay safe.”

“Wait!” Julie clutches her bookbag more tightly. “I should properly thank you. How about we meet tomorrow at that diner down the road? Milkshakes on me!”

Veronica pauses with her helmet half-on, then gives her a big grin. “I’ll see you there ‘round three then? It’s a date!”

Then she revs the bike and disappears in a cloud of smoke.

* * *

The Atomic Shake diner was a cozy place packed with chattering college students. In the corner, a group of preppy socs argue over the jukebox. Harried waitresses rush back and forth, delivering malts and baskets of greasy fries to eager couples.

A few minutes past three o’clock, Julie joins Veronica at a corner booth. She smooths down her skirt, excited and nervous. She had never been the type to ask someone out in such a bold way, but it had paid off. Veronica’s got the same distressed jacket on, her brown hair curled into a fluffy mess. _She must have taken her bike here._ Julie cracks a nervous smile.

“I’ve never actually been here before,” Veronica comments after they order. She leans on the table, chin in her hand. “Thought it was mostly jam couples that went here.”

“Oh, not really,” Julie blushes. “I’ve been here a couple of times.”

Something in Veronica’s face twitches. She leans closer. “And you’re not just,” she frowns, “I mean, we ride the same bus, right? I didn’t get my signals crossed here?”

Julie frantically waves her hands in front of her. “No, no! I ride lots of buses!”

The waitress gives her an odd look when she sets down their shake. Two young women, one a greaser, one a nerd, sharing a milkshake is odd enough without all this heated talk of public transportation.

Veronica takes a sip of the chocolate shake. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Julie fiddles with the end of her straw, “I play for both teams, I guess.”

“Oh.”

Julie bends down to drink some of the shake, just to avoid Veronica’s gaze. _Not everyone’s responded well to that sort of talk._ Suddenly, her date’s soft face is right in front of hers, sharing their milkshake in the way it was meant to be shared. Julie’s heart stutters in her chest. She pulls back, face hot. _Now I see why people think shakes are romantic._

“So you’re a Gillette razor, doll,” Veronica smiles. “I’m cool with that.”

The waitress, walking by, almost drops her tray. Now this odd couple is discussing shaving equipment?

Julie takes a second to catch onto this particular euphemism. _What? A Gillette razor-oh, double edged, right. Okay._

They spend the rest of the date chatting and getting to know each other better. Julie reveals her unexpected political science and French minors, Veronica tells her all about the rigors of the brand-new aeronautical engineering program. They discuss hairstyles, gossip about professors, and invent the most confusing euphemisms for ‘wearing sensible shoes’.

Hours later, they stand in front of the diner.

“So you’re just going to walk back to your dorm?” Veronica confirms, one hand on her bike. “Let me give you a ride back. It’s getting pretty chilly.”

Right on cue, Julie shivers. She had only thrown a light cardigan on over her dress, and she was starting to regret her short-sightedness. The month of October had been unusually cold this year. “You don’t have to go so far out of your way,” she self-consciously rubs her neck, “it’s not that far.”

Something warm and heavy falls on her shoulders. She looks up and grasps the edge of Veronica’s gray leather jacket, then slips her arms inside. It’s warm and smells faintly of grease and polish.

“Guess I’ll have to see you again to give this back,” Julie grins.

“I’m counting on it, doll,” Veronica straddles her bike and starts the engine. “Give me a bell!” Then she revs the bike and speeds away at an irresponsibly fast speed.

“But I don’t-” Julie’s cut off by the roar of the bike. She’s left standing alone in front of the diner, a few leaves rustling around her feet.

“I don’t even have your number,” she whispers, arm still outstretched. _How am I supposed to call you?_ She sighs and slips her hands into the pockets of the jacket. Something crinkles under her fingers. Julie withdraws her left hand, now holding a small slip of paper, folded in half. She unfolds it, a smile already creeping onto her face. A phone number is neatly printed on the paper, surrounded by little heart doodles.

Julie laughs out loud. _She’s one smooth cat._ Then she slips the paper back into the pocket, turns up the collar of the jacket, and starts homeward.

* * *

“Hey, can I see your notes from Biochem yesterday?”

“Yeah, here,” Julie leans back and hands Arcade a sheaf of paper. Arcade Gannon was also in his junior year in the demanding pre-med program. They shared most classes and had quickly struck up a firm friendship.

On this rainy Tuesday evening, they sit in Julie’s dorm for their bi-weekly study session. Arcade sits at the desk, Julie on her bed. Her dorm room is small but cozy, sporting a small kitchen and a modestly sized closet. Her roommate, a sophomore History major named Elizabeth, is out for the night.

“Ugh,” Julie rubs her eyes, “I _hate_ Brown’s class. He just rambles and never takes enough time to actually _explain_ anything.” She flips open a thick Pathology book.

“I caught him in office hours the other day and got him to go over a bunch of stuff from our last test, if that helps,” Arcade offers, swiveling in the desk chair to hand her a thick packet of paper: their last exam. As she eagerly takes it, his eyes catch on something hung from her bedpost: a faded gray leather jacket.

“What’s that?” he looks closer at the unfamiliar coat. It’s not Julie’s style, he’s certain. Even though her hair said ‘rebel’, her wardrobe screamed ‘down-home nerd’. This jacket was full-on greaser.

Tellingly, Julie’s cheeks redden. Arcade raises an eyebrow, turning around to sit backwards in the chair.

“It’s not mine,” she starts. He bites back the _obviously_ that tickles his tongue and nods for her to continue. “I met…someone.” A goofy smile lights up her face.

“Girl or guy?” Arcade asks, leaning forward.

“What, are we at a sleepover?” Julie retorts, then flops back on the bed. “A girl. Her name is Veronica. We met on Saturday, and went out to that nice diner on Sunday.”

“Sunday?” Arcade’s voice cracks in disbelief. “And you’re already jacketed? Speaking of which,” he examines the jacket, but finds no insignia on the back. “Is she a greaser or what?”

“Yeah, but she said she’s not part of any group anymore. Too much drama, she said.” Julie reaches for the jacket, rubbing the edge of a fraying sleeve. “Something about hating the conformity of it.”

“I can see that.” And Arcade can, of course. Gangs like that weren’t exactly known for their tolerance. Then the sun slanting through the open window hits the jacket just right, and he sees the faint outline of torn-up stitching. “Who was she a part of?” He perches on the bed next to Julie and traces the shape. A few circles, some straight lines, a one or two jagged edges.

Julie shrugs. “I don’t know. Not many folks accept women, and I don’t think she’s from around here. Maybe one of the Cali groups?”

Arcade shrugs too. “Whatever. Are you going to see her again?”

“This Friday, yeah. We’re going out to see that new comedy flick.” Then Julie looks over at her calendar and frowns. “After that nasty Pathology quiz.”

“Ugh, what a drag,” Arcade groans and pulls out his own textbook. “We’d better get to it.”

That night, Julie falls asleep with the jacket twisted in her arms, drifting off with sweet brown eyes sparkling in her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the 1958 hit "Witch Doctor". 
> 
> Slang: 
> 
> Square = nerd  
> beatnik = [definition.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beatnik)  
> candy-ass = wimp  
> kookie = weirdo  
> bent = gay  
> socs ="socials", opposite of greasers  
> jam = straight (from [The Lesbian Almanac.)](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0425153010/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0425153010&linkCode=as2&tag=autowin-20&linkId=VNYJVMEBFA5IVFVD)  
> Gillette razor = bisexual (from the [Alyson Almanac.)](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0932870198/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=autowin-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0932870198)  
> wearing sensible shoes = euphemism for being a lesbian  
> give me a bell = call me  
> jacketed = serious, going steady
> 
> Taking a few creative liberties with the era, since neither of them would have really gotten into those programs due to sexism.


	2. Chapter 2

Veronica slips her hand into Julie’s. They’re walking down the sidewalk away from the movie theater, towards the downtown bustle of early-evening shoppers and movie-goers.

“What’d you think of it?” she asks, looking over at Julie, who’s still wearing Veronica’s leather jacket. _It looks so cute on her,_ Veronica thinks, a faint grin fighting its way onto her face.

“It was alright,” Julie confesses, “but I felt like it sidelined some of the stuff in the book.”

Veronica hums in agreement. “Shame they couldn’t have at least kept the subtext in.” She sighs. They walk in comfortable silence down a few blocks and go into a small pizza parlor, its bright signs advertising the latest specials and deals. They have to wait a few minutes for a seat, alone in the small entryway, the muffled chatter of the packed parlor filtering through the glass door.

“Ugh,” Julie leans against the wall, arms crossed.

“What?”

Julie nods her head at a small plaque next to her: WHITES ONLY. Veronica grimaces and leans on the wall next to her.

“Fucking racist pigs,” she whispers, eyebrows furrowed. Then she has an idea. A stupid, pointless idea, but a satisfying one nonetheless. “Hold on,” she glances over her shoulder at the restaurant, then shifts a little closer to Julie, so that the plaque is in between them.

“What are you doing?” Julie fiercely whispers as Veronica rummages through her purse and pulls out a tool kit.

“Just cover me, doll.” She takes out a small screwdriver and starts unscrewing the two screws holding it to the wall. _This isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but at least these people will get the message._ She finishes and hands the plaque to Julie, who promptly throws it into a nearby trashcan. Veronica slips the screwdriver back into her purse just as the waitress fetches them.

“Holy crap,” Julie leans across the table after they’ve ordered. Her (gorgeous) green eyes are wide and excited.

“Yeah,” Veronica fiddles with a napkin, “that stuff just really rattles my cage, you know?”

Julie looks even more excited. “Wednesday,” she blurts. “8 o’clock. We’re having a meeting to try and figure out how to desegregate campus housing. You should come.”

“Hell yes I’ll be there.” Veronica can’t believe her luck. _Cute, smart, and good? I knew I liked her before, but now…_ Unbidden, a memory surfaces, a stray thought. _I wonder if Christie’s fighting too somewhere._ She tries to push away the thought, but it sticks in the back of her head.

Their food arrives and she eats in silence. Julie quickly picks up on her mood.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Veronica shrugs. “Just got thinking about…something.” _Someone, actually. And I’d been doing so well getting over her._ “I used to be a part of a biker group. It was a duo, actually: the Brotherhood and Sisterhood of Steel.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of them,” Julie remarks. “You _used_ to be? What happened?”

“One of my… _very good friends_ ,” Veronica tilts her head, and Julie nods, apparently catching her drift, “she, uh,” thinking about Christine was hard enough, but actually talking about her? “She wanted to join the Sisterhood, but they rejected her.” She nibbles at the end of her pizza slice.

“Oh.” Julie lays a hand on top of hers on the table.

“And after she ‘jumped the fence’, the Brotherhood didn’t want her back, so she left the city.” Veronica lowers her eyes. “So I left too, a few months later when I transferred here. A Sisterhood that doesn’t accept all Sisters,” she flips her hand so they’re holding hands, “that’s no Sisterhood of mine.”

“Amen to that,” Julie says, then yawns, covering her mouth with one hand.

Veronica chuckles, her mood lifted. “It’s getting late. We’d better head home.”

They walk back to Julie’s dorm together, hand in hand. Veronica had parked her bike there earlier. She hops onto the seat, pulling her helmet from the back compartment. Julie slips off her jacket and holds it out.

“Oh, you don’t have to give it back so soon!” Veronica laughs, blushing a little. “It looks so cool on you, doll!”

Julie laughs too, her ears slightly tinged pink. “But it doesn’t smell like you anymore,” she admits, then unties her scarf and drapes it around Veronica’s neck. The pale pink contrasts with the dark gray of the jacket, but in a good way. “See you later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile.” Veronica gazes softly at her. Julie’s flushed cheeks give her a rosy glow. Veronica feels a sudden urge to pull her close and embrace her, but fights it. _Don’t seem too forward,_ an old etiquette video echoes in her mind, _no kissing until the third date, at the very earliest._

Veronica puts on her helmet, starts her old reliable bike, and gives Julie a thumbs-up before riding off into the sunset.

* * *

The bell above the door chimes when they walk in. “Welcome to Rocket Records, what can I – oh,” Arcade Gannon looks up in surprise, “Julie, hi.” He sits up in his seat and closes a book he’s reading. Then he notices the person who walks in with Julie, and his back straightens even more.

“Oh, Arcade,” Julie quietly kicks herself. _How could I have forgotten that he works here on weekends?_ “This is Veronica, my… _friend_.” His eyebrows raise. Julie sees Veronica’s eyes light up in understanding too. “Veronica, this is Arcade. He’s in the same program as me.”

“Any friend of Julie’s is a friend of mine,” Veronica reaches out and shakes Arcade’s hand.

“So what are you two cats looking for today?” He leans back in his chair. The store is mostly empty, with only a few young teens lingering in a corner. Veronica shrugs and bumps her hand against Julie’s.

“Just going to browse,” Julie responds, slipping her hand into Veronica’s.

“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he stretches and yawns. “Bring something up if you want a listen.”

They look around for a few minutes, pulling out interesting-looking records. They drift from classical to rock and roll, and end up in the New Releases section.

“Oh, look,” Julie shows Veronica one, pressing up close to her side and boldly putting an arm around her waist. “Johnny Cash just put out a new record.”

Veronica looks up and realizes how close together they’re standing. Julie’s long eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, her breath a soft ghost on Veronica’s ear. Her lungs briefly stop working, and she suddenly becomes hyper-aware of Julie’s warm arm around her waist and of her sweet floral perfume, so teasingly subtle and soft.

“Uh, yeah,” Veronica stutters back to reality. “I think I heard something on the radio a couple days ago.”

Julie snags one of the singles and tugs her over to the front counter. “Let’s go get Arcade to give us a listen.”

The single, an energetic ballad about ‘the prettiest girl around’, is catchy enough that Julie buys it. Veronica picks out a few Little Richard 45s.

“So are two planning on going to the Prom next month?” Arcade casually asks as he rings them up.

“Is that already next month?” Julie looks thoughtful, tapping her nails on the counter. “I wasn’t really planning on going,” she looks over at Veronica, “but it might be fun.”

“Hey, I’ll take any excuse to get dressed up,” Veronica longingly thinks of the special dress that’s been languishing unused in her closet. “And the theme is supposed to be ‘among the stars’.” She sighs. “So romantic.”

“Okay, then,” Julie quickly warms to the idea. “We’ll go together.”

“Are you going too, Arcade?” Veronica asks out of politeness. After all, he did bring up the topic.

“No, I-”

Julie cuts him off. “Oh, no,” she does her worst gruff imitation of his voice, “I’m too _busy_ to have any fun!”

At the same time, Arcade and Julie cross their arms and let out disgruntled huffs, Julie’s significantly exaggerated. Veronica bursts into peals of laughter at their faces, and Julie joins in, much to Arcade’s annoyance. He just rubs his eyes and sighs, then finishes bagging their purchases.

As they walk out arm-in-arm, he briefly smiles. _They’re such a cute couple._

* * *

Julie deftly parks her rarely-used car in front of the off-campus apartment complex. She had bought the car a year before. It was a used Chevy 150 model, bright blue with a soft gray interior. In order to keep it in such a nice condition, Julie didn’t use it often, opting to walk to her destinations instead. But for an occasion like this, it was perfect.

She nervously fixes her hair in the rearview mirror. She had accentuated her signature style with a small silver pin on one side. A matching silver chain and set of earrings completed the outfit. Julie steps out of the car, careful to place her short white heels on a clean patch of pavement. Her dress billows out behind her, fluffy but not _too_ voluminous, long but not floor-length, the perfect shade of rosy pink. The late November breeze is blocked out by a pearly white velvet shawl around her shoulders.

She knocks on the door with her right hand, the other one holding a small box.

“Hi!” Veronica immediately opens the door. Julie’s heart stops.

Veronica, contrary to her expectations, is wearing a shimmering gray gown that just brushes the floor. There’s layers and layers of tulle, each one light and airy, the bottom ones sparkling. The sparkles are further matched on the satin bodice, a cluster of rhinestones twinkling just below the sweetheart neckline. Veronica’s lips are a ruby red that draws the eye up to her sun-kissed cheeks. A rose-colored stole is draped around her broad shoulders, secured by a pearly brooch.

They stare at each other, eyes wide. Then Julie shoves the small box in her hands forward, thankful for the chill wind to cool her hot face.

“Oh,” Veronica opens the box and gently takes out a corsage, a delicate collection of white roses and baby’s breath, “this is lovely.” She pins it to the shoulder of her stole and, with a gloved hand, takes a similar box from her purse. Julie opens it with shaking hands. This corsage is a single pink rose surrounded by succulent greenery, a pale green that matches her eyes. She pins it in place, then takes Veronica’s hand and leads her to the car.

Five minutes in, and the night is already more than perfect.

The 1958 Winter Prom is being held at one of the downtown Vegas hotels. They walk to the door together and show their tickets, then enter the ritzy venue.

“Wow,” Julie whispers, holding Veronica’s hand and looking up at the ceiling, where long swaths of dark fabric are draped, sparkling with silver and gold star appliques. Soft lighting illuminates the dance floor, candles flickering on tables for two.

A live band is set up on stage, and the leader makes a few announcements before starting to play. Julie and Veronica join the other couples on the dance floor, swaying together. As they spin and twirl in each other’s embrace, they chat, exchange jokes, and stare into each other’s eyes. After four or five songs, they take a break, snagging some punch and appetizers then sitting around a table.

Some of Julie’s pre-med classmates stop and say ‘hi’, as do Veronica’s engineering pals. Mutual friends delight in the surprise of seeing them together. They dance and eat some more, getting swept up in the frenzy, the heat, the rush of being so close, cheeks pressed together during the slow dances.

The music stops and someone walks up to the stage, taking the microphone from the band. “I think it’s time to announce this year’s Winter Prom King and Queen!” He announces. The crowd cheers and everyone raises their glasses.

“Hey,” Julie murmurs, arm still on Veronica’s hip, “let’s duck out to the balcony.” Since they’re at the back of the crowd, they easily slip out a pair of side doors and into the cool air. The balcony looks out on the bustling downtown, neon signs lighting up their faces and twinkling in the rhinestones of Veronica’s dress. They stand quietly in the sudden stillness, the cheers of the crowd inside now distant.

“Julie.”

“Veronica,” she says at the same time, sending both of them into a small giggle fit.

“Julie,” Veronica wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close. “This has been amazing. I’ve never met someone like you.”

“Me neither,” Julie puts a hand on her cheek. “We’ve got such a good thing going-”

“You could say that again.”

Julie, undeterred, continues. “And baby,” her hand slides into Veronica’s soft short hair, “I don’t want this to end. Ever.”

“Me neither,” Veronica looks up at her, “I’m on Cloud 9 every time we’re together, Jule.” She stands up on tiptoe to press their foreheads together. “Jule, my precious jewel. I’m crazy about you.”

“Me too,” Julie breathily chuckles, pulling back to look Veronica in the eye. “I-I love you, Veronica.” Then she leans down, her eyes fluttering closed.

And under the stars, in front of the whole world, they kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie they're talking about is Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958).   
> Transwoman Christine is a headcanon that just snuck its way into this story somehow????  
> Have you ever seen those dating etiquette videos from the '50s? They're pretty wild.  
> Veronica buys 'Ballad of a Teenage Queen' by Johnny Cash (1958).  
> A '45' is just another name for a 7-inch vinyl record that singles were usually released on.   
> I've always imagined Julie's hair as a cross between a quiff and a mohawk, since mohawks weren't really in style at this time.


End file.
